


The princess, the mirror and the demon king

by Adara_Rose



Series: Thedasian Fairy Tales [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Adventure, Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, F/M, Fairy Tale Curses, Fairy Tale Retellings, Fairy Tale Style, Fluff, Happy Ending, Love at First Sight, Romance, happy ever after
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-08
Updated: 2016-09-08
Packaged: 2018-08-13 21:20:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7986601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adara_Rose/pseuds/Adara_Rose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>No longer a swan, princess Beatrice of Brecilia wants her own happily ever. Thus, she sets out to save a kingdom from its' wicked king. Only, as it turns out, it is King Alistair that is in need of saving. </p><p>A Thedasian Fairy Tale.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The princess, the mirror and the demon king

Princess Beatrice of Brecilia was known to all of her people to possess a good head on her shoulders, and to be as clever as she was pretty. So it was without fear she kissed her second-youngest brother good-bye as he left for his honeymoon with his True Love and prepared to go off and seek her own fortune.

She exchanged the lovely blue silk gown for a more practical one, and well-worn traveller’s boots were put on her feet instead of a princess’ dainty slippers. She tied her loose golden curls up into a messy bun, took a heavy woollen cloak and a small pack of provisions, and left Trevelyan Castle. 

She wandered for many days, aimless, but eventually she came upon a village where everyone seemed to be unusually sad. Stopping by the little bakery shop and enjoying a freshly made bread roll, she asked the baker’s wife what was the matter.

“Oh, it is very sad, but there would be no point in telling you, fine lady. You cannot help us.”   
“You do not know that until you ask” Beatrice pointed out. The woman sighed deeply and explained:

“Our own dear king Alistair has been...changed” the baker’s wife told the princess, “he who was once the kindest, gentlest, fairest of kings is now cruel and spiteful. He taxes his people most viciously and torments his servants for his own wicked pleasure.”

Beatrice, who was as gentle a soul as her twin Bela, felt her sapphire blue eyes sting with tears. 

“Is there nothing that can be done?”

“No one knows, fair lady.”

Beatrice stood silent in thought, distractedly eating the last off her roll. Then it was as if she made a decision.

“I shall find out what ails poor King Alistair.” she decreed. “It shall be a fine quest.”

The baker’s wife tried to dissuade her, warning her that several princesses had already tried and been cruelly abused for the attempt before being burnt at the stake. But Beatrice would not be convinced. She bid the kind woman farewell, thanked her again for the bread and wandered on. 

 

Beatrice wandered through the little country, but no matter how much she looked she saw no one who could tell her anything about the king’s curse. After two days journey, she reached another little village. Stopping at the baker’s shop, she bought a roll of bread and asked about the king. The baker’s wife cried out in distress;

“Oh, do turn back, princess! It is a fearsome tale!” 

But Beatrice was insistent. 

“Tell me of the king’s curse!” She demanded, putting on her royal airs. The poor woman could do little but obey.

“Oh, it is a terrible thing! Our good king Alistair, always generous and benevolent, has become so wicked and cruel. We never even see his face anymore, for he never leaves the castle!”

“Why does he never leave his castle?” Beatrice asked.

“No one knows, kind lady. But oh, do turn back! Six princesses he has burned already!”

“Then I shall be the lucky seventh.” Beatrice declared. She bade the baker’s wife good-bye and continued her journey. 

 

Beatrice wandered alone for several more days, seeing neither man nor beast, until on the third day she arrived in a little village. Stopping once more at the baker’s shop, she asked for a roll of bread and advice on the king’s curse.

“I know not” said the baker’s wife. “But I know of one who might. Walk straight into the woods with the sun shining on your back, and walk the rest of today and all of tomorrow, stopping not once. At dusk, you will find yourself at a little fire, tended by an old woman. Offer her your meager rations, sit by her fire and be kind and courteous. Offer to buy from her advice on the king’s curse with a lock of your hair.”

Beatrice thanked her and wanted to give her the gold ring off her finger, but the woman refused to take it and sent her on her way.

 

After a full day of walking straight ahead, the sun shining on her back, stopping not to rest or drink, Beatrice found herself at a small campfire. On a fallen log sat an old woman with ancient eyes, watching the princess with amusement and curiosity.

“Good day, grandmother” the princess said and curtsied politely. The sapphire on her forehead glowed a brilliant blue in the fire-light.

“Good evening, princess of Brecilia” the old woman said. “I am Flemeth. Will you not sit down by my fire?”

So she sat down, and offered to share what little food she had left with the old woman. Once they had finished their meager meal, Flemeth said:   
“Now you shall sleep, princess. And in the morning, we will speak of why you come seeking me.”

The princess found herself suddenly very sleepy, and she laid down to sleep in the soft green grass. She had such a peculiar dream; in it she wandered through the empty halls of a grand castle, and in the distance she heard the cries of a tormented man pleading for peace, for forgiveness, for someone - anyone - to end his pain. She wanted to run to him and soothe him, but each time she turned a corner she found herself back where she began. When she awoke, it was to bright sunlight and the old woman - Flemeth - tending a little cooking fire.

“You travelled in your sleep, princess” Flemeth said, “to the place where the king is held prisoner.”

Beatrice shook her head.

“The king is in his castle” she said, “and six princesses he has burned at the stake.”

“Not king Alistair, for he is good and kind. Nay, the king at the castle is the demon that has taken his soul prisoner. It came through a child the poor king tried to help, and now it holds the king’s soul entrapped, tormenting him and the people alike.”

Beatrice felt her eyes swim with tears.

“How can I help him?” She begged, and then remembered the words the baker’s wife had spoken. “I shall buy the knowledge from you with a lock of my hair.”

Flemeth picked up a knife, and with a pleased grin cut a lock of golden hair from the princess’ head.

“Thank you” she said as she put both the knife and the lock away in her pocket, “now I shall tell you how to save the king. Thou shalt go to the castle and offer yourself to the king’s pleasure, for he is a hedonist and you are lovely. But before he comes to you, ask to be left alone in his bedchambers. As soon as the door locks behind you, run to the grand mirror on the wall, close your eyes and kiss your reflection three times, each time asking her to be you til sunrise. When you open your eyes, you will find that you are behind the mirror and mirror-you is in the king’s bedroom. You have until sunrise to find the room where Alistair is held.”

Beatrice nodded slowly.

“But how shall I find him beyond the mirror?”

“Your soul-stone will guide you. But be warned; you shall meet three of him, but two are false. If you are the one who is meant to free him, you will know which is true. When you find your Alistair, call his name and kiss him three times - on his eyes, on his cheek, on his lips - and you shall find the mirror-world collapsing around you. Take his hand and run back to the mirror, and if he is the true Alistair you will pass safely through. After that, the slaying of the demon that has taken his place is up to him.”

Flemeth thought for a moment, then handed Beatrice three small eggs.

“You will need these” she said cryptically. “Break them, and they shall help you.”

Beatrice thanked the old woman profusely, trying once more to give away the gold ring on her finger. But the old woman said, that she had received payment a-plenty and sent the princess on her way.

 

\---

 

Beatrice found the castle late the next day, and though she was exhausted and weary to the bone, her feet aching from the long journey, she did not betray her discomfort as she was brought to the great hall to meet King Alistair.

The man who rose from the throne and came toward her was, admittedly, the most beautiful man Beatrice had ever seen. For a moment, she stood dazzled by his blue eyes, his fine features and the golden hair that fell in soft waves around his handsome face. But then she saw the look in his eyes and remembered what Flemeth had said. This was not king Alistair, but a wicked demon that had taken his form. If she focused on looking past his air of beauty and allure, she could see the evil at his core. It made her strong - and impossibly frightened.

His hands as they touched her without permission burned like hellfire.

“For my pleasure, hm?” He said, sounding both smug and pleased. “Yes, I shall have plenty pleasure from you. And to-morrow, once I am sated, I shall enjoy watching you burn in my courtyard.”

Beatrice did her best to smile even though her skin was crawling, and said in as sweet a voice as she could muster:

“Please, my fair king, before thy take my maidenhood - let me have but a moment alone in your bedchambers, to ready myself.”

The demon-king, sensing no deceit, gave his permission.

 

Beatrice waited until the door closed behind her, then ran to the grand mirror on the wall. She saw her own frightened face, and felt ashamed for what she was about to do.

“I am sorry” she whispered to the mirror-girl, “but I have to save him.” She closed her eyes tightly and pressed her lips to where she supposed the mirror-girl’s mouth to be. “Take my place” she begged, “until the sun rises.” Twice more she kissed the mirror, repeating her plea. Then she drew a deep breath and opened her eyes. She stood before the mirror still, watching her own reflection. On the verge of tears, she turned to go to the bed in which she was to be laid, but startled in shock. She stood in a bedroom, yes, but not the one she had left. This room was mirrored, and with a little cry of delight she realised that she was in the mirror-world. The place where Alistair was held prisoner. She gathered her skirts and ran.

 

Beyond the bedchamber, Beatrice soon found, lay a maze of twisting corridors and empty rooms and soon she was helplessly lost. In despair, she sank to the floor and wept, feeling very sorry for herself. But as she laid there feeling so wretched and sorry, she remembered what the old woman had said;  _ your soul-stone will guide you. _ Hesitant, Beatrice raised her hand to the circlet encompassing her forehead and removed the sapphire glowing there. Like when she was a child playing in her father’s garden, she held it to her eye and looked through it. She gasped with shock as she saw a small blue door glowing in the middle of the wall. She looked again, without the stone, and there was nothing there. But when she gazed through the stone she saw it. Quickly, she ran to open it and found herself standing in another room, this one with three doors next to each other. When she looked through her stone, only one shone blue and she swiftly moved on.

 

Door after door, room after room, Beatrice hurried through the maze letting the sapphire guide her. Finally, she stood on a balcony with an unending void before her, and no way of going back. In the distance, she saw a tower with a lone candle shining in a window.  _ Alistair’s prison, _ Beatrice thought as she hurried towards the edge. There, she saw her folly; there was no bridge, no path, no way of getting across. She turned back, but even when looking through her soul-stone was there any way to return. Her stone did not show her a path across, either, and she started to cry. So close, and so impossibly far! She dug through her pocket for her handkerchief to dry her tears, but all she found was three small eggs. Angry at herself for bringing such a useless thing, she picked one up and threw it into the void with all her might. It sailed through the darkness like a small, fragile star, shattering into a thousand pieces as it fell. And as it shattered, the fragments grew and formed a narrow bridge, leading her across the darkness. Beatrice gasped with shock, then remembered that Flemeth had told her to throw or break the eggs when she needed help. And she did indeed need help now! Quickly, in fear the bridge would shatter like an eggshell, she ran across it to the tower. 

 

The heavy oaken door opened before Beatrice as if commanded, without her having to touch it. Carefully she stepped into the darkened room, unsure of what she would find. The moment she stepped through, three men raised their heads to look at her. All three of them were identical to the demon-king on the other side of the mirror, but only one of them was the true King. She looked through her soul-stone, but it would not show her which was the real Alistair. The first man came towards her smiling.

“You are not a mage, are you?” He teased with a crooked grin, and Beatrice could not help but smile back, for so charming was he.

“Would it be better or worse if I was?” she replied in the same tone.

“Maker’s breath” the second sighed with awe and adoration, “but you are beautiful. I am a lucky man.” He handed her a red rose, and pressed a kiss to her hand as he did so. Beatrice blushed deeply, then turned to look at the third man who had not risen. Slowly he raised his head and she saw only sorrow in his eyes.

“Forgive me” he begged as tears made silvery paths down his cheeks, and Beatrice fell around his neck.

“Alistair” she whispered as she kissed his weeping eyes. And once more; “Alistair”, this time against his cheek. “Alistair” she sighed a third time, this time as she kissed his sweet lips. He looked at her, this time with wonder.

“You” he whispered, “you found me.” She was about to reply, when a roar of anger behind her made her turn her head in fear. The two false Alistair’s had turned back into their demonic forms, and they came towards them with death on their terrible visages. Alistair hurriedly stood up and pushed her behind him, wanting to keep her safe even though he had no way of protecting her.

Beatrice remembered the eggs in her pocket, took one and crushed it in her hand. Immediately, before her appeared a shining sword and a heavy shield, and she passed both to Alistair. He flashed her a quick, thankful smile, then with two mighty blows from his sword he vanquished the demons. 

“Quickly” Beatrice cried as the walls of the tower crumbled around them, “we must return to the mirror!” Not pausing to question her, Alistair took her little hand in his and as fast as they could they fled across the eggshell-bridge towards the balcony on the other side. In the distance, amongst the crumbling walls and the darkness closing in, they could see the mirror glowing dully with dark magic. 

Alistair’s grip on her hand tightened as they sprinted as fast as they could towards it, ignoring the shrieks of cries of uncountable demons around them, past crumbling walls and disintegrating floors. Soon they stood before the mirror, panting and trembling with the exertion. In it, they could see the king’s bed chamber, but however much she strained her eyes Beatrice could not see the mirror-girl. She sent a quick prayer for forgiveness to the gods , then turned to the King. 

“There, now let us go through and slay the monster that entrapped you here, freeing you and your people!”

Alistair nodded once, stole a kiss that took her breath away, and stepped through the mirror, sword in hand. Beatrice pressed a hand to her blushing cheeks, willing them to stop burning, then followed him.

 

The king’s bedchamber was empty, and they stood helpless for a moment looking around in bewilderment. Outside the window, Beatrice could see the light of dawn and prayed once more - this time, that they were not too late. Just then, the door opened and in stepped the demon-king, staring at them both in shock.

“What sort of magic is this?” He demanded, “I just watched you burn, elf-girl!” Beatrice felt her heart break for the mirror-girl, but had no time to react as Alistair charged at the imposter with a cry of fury, sword raised to slay him. 

The battle was swift but furious. The two combatants were fairly matched, but the real Alistair fought with the righteous fury of a king avenging himself, his people, and the world. At last, with one mighty blow, he severed the imposter’s head from his shoulders and the demon-king was no more. As the body fell, it reverted back to it’s horrifying true form, blackened and twisted like a burned tree. 

Beatrice hurried over to Alistair, and his arms immediately opened to receive her as if made to do so.

“Let us go” she laughed, arms around his neck, “let us go and tell your people that the evil has passed!”

His grip on her tightened briefly, then he let go.

“He took my heart from me and threw it into the dark” Alistair whispered, turning his face away from her so that she could not see his features. “Without a heart, I cannot exist here. I must return through the mirror, for nothing lives there.” Instinctively wanting to wipe his tears, Beatrice put her hand in her pocket to take out her still-missing handkerchief. Instead she felt something warm, pulsing beneath her fingers. With a trembling hand, she withdrew the third egg. Slowly, carefully, she peeled away the thin shell and was left holding a pulsing human heart.

“Alistair” she whispered, voice quivering. “I have it.” He turned around so fast he nearly knocked her off her feet, a look of wild, desperate hope on his face. She pressed the still-beating heart to his chest and they both watched in awe as it sank into him, returning to its rightful place beneath his ribcage. Immediately, the warmth of life returned to his cold limbs and light to his eyes.

“My princess” he whispered, “please, say you will stay.”

“I will… as your queen.” She teased him, and he laughed. It was the sweetest sound she’d ever heard.

“Are you proposing?” he replied in a playful tone.

“That rather depends on your reply!” She giggled and he leaned in to kiss her.

“Yes” he murmured against her lips. “Yes” he whispered against her soft cheek. “Yes” he breathed as her eyes fluttered close.

And then, hand in hand, they walked out of the bedchamber and into their very own happy ever after. 

  
  


_ -Fin.  _


End file.
